


Delicate

by StillNotReallyThatCool



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Established Relationship, Fluff, I legit wrote this while I had a terrible headache lmao, Other, Reader-Insert, This is fucking cute and I'm proud of it okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:53:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13435122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StillNotReallyThatCool/pseuds/StillNotReallyThatCool
Summary: Soulmate AU: Where your soulmate can take away pain and bear it themselves.Or:Reader suffers from chronic headaches/migraines but is too fucking stubborn to let Michael help. He ends up taking things into his own hands.





	Delicate

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote a few months ago when I was suffering from chronic migraines brought on by stress and a need for glasses that my mom continues to choose to ignore. I actually have one right now which is what motivated me to post this,so..yeah. 
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated! :)

The headaches had been something you'd dealt with for years. 

They came and went as they pleased,and you had no idea why. It could've been because of all of the time you spent in front of a screen; it could've been because despite the doctor's recommendations, you'd never gotten glasses because “we can't afford them” and “you'll just break them or lose them” were the excuses you heard all throughout childhood and,consequently,carried even after moving out. It could've been that something was actually wrong on a serious, potential-brain-damage level. But the truth was that you just didn't know what it was exactly. 

You had gotten used to the routine,just like your body got used to the amount of Tylenol you had to take just to get through the day,but the one thing you could never get used to was the crippling pain in your temples. On the okay days it was only a mild annoyance- two pills as the pain hit and you were okay. On the bad days,you suffered. You didn't wanna be known as the girl who accidentally OD’d on Tylenol,so you just sucked it up and held your breath after tidal wave after tidal wave crashed over you. 

For what it was worth,you had Michael. Michael might have been known as a loud,angry asshole,but you knew that *most* of that was a facade. He was the first person to tear you away from your computer after a few hours; he was the one who reminded you that,no,you can't take two more Tylenol because you just took two half an hour ago and, again,you don't want to be in the news for OD'ing. And when all else failed,he kept his voice quiet when he was around you as to not make things worse. 

The first time it happened, you'd been pouring yourself over an essay for school. It was meant to be at least three pages long and was due by midnight,and you were one of those people that put things off until the last possible minute. You were typing away at your keyboard at what felt like ninety miles per fucking hour. 

You hunched over your keyboard,eyes squinting as your head hammered. It hurt like hell- you wanted nothing more than to bash your goddamn brains in- but the grade was important. The assignment had to get done. So,rather than take a break like you knew was the healthy way to go about things,you pushed on. 

When Michael walked in,your head felt like a pair of drums,and there was an air of pain and obvious misery around you that stuck out more than anything. 

“What the hell,Y/N?” he asked after a brief moment of silence. 

You looked away from the screen and winced. You were tired and in pain,but you didn't want to be another task Michael had to handle. Between his work and everything else,he had a lot on his plate. You didn't want to pile on a portion he couldn't stomach. 

“I'm finishing up my essay,” you explained. It was short,quick and to the point,and you expected him to shrug and walk away. But he didn't. Instead,he walked up behind you and moved your hair,gently pressing the pads of his fingers against your throbbing temples. Immediately,the pain started to dull,but Michael jerked his hands away. 

“Oh, Jesus fuck,that hurts,” he mumbled,reaching up to his head. You sat there, slack-jawed,almost completely unaware of the pain that was slowly seeping back into you. 

“Holy shit,are you okay?” you asked,concerned. You stood up,feeling more than a little bit dizzy. 

At at once,you understood- Michael had taken some of the pain away from your to handle himself,whether he had intended to or not. And as kind as the gesture was,you couldn't stand knowing that you caused him pain,whether you meant to or not. 

“Yeah,yeah.. I'm fine. I just..wasn't expecting that.”

You were silent for a moment. When you spoke,you had to grip the corner of your desk to keep from falling over. 

“I'm not letting you do that again. I've handled these for years,and..I'm okay. I'll live.”

Michael,stubborn but never the one to try to argue with you- especially when you had a headache- sighed. He pressed his fingers against the side of his head,rubbing in gentle circles.

“Fine. But please,for the love of fuck,get away from the computer for a while. You're gonna kill yourself trying to get that stupid essay done.”

If it had come from anyone else,you would've told them to shove it,but you knew he was just trying to make sure you were okay. That you were healthy. So,you stepped away from the desk and pushed the chair in and headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. 

He ended up finishing the essay for you. 

……………………………………………

A few weeks had passed. You were experiencing the flare-ups again,spending as much time as possible away from anything that would set off another migraine. You had remained adamant about not wanting assistance from anything other than your trusty daily dose of Tylenol,something you could tell frustrated Michael. 

“I can help you,you know,” he'd say every time you made your way to the medicine cabinet. You'd turn around and see sympathy in those brown eyes,and you'd almost let him help. But you toughed it out,remembering how his fingers had jerked away from your head like they were on fire, deciding that it'd be better this way. 

You kept this up- the pills,the pain,the declining of his help- until the day you ran out of those pills. 

The headaches has always hurt,but this? This was something beyond hurt. It was agonizing,and every movement you made caused a shot of that terrible pain to rip through your skull like a gunshot. You weren't sure how much time had passed- the pain had made you black out at some point- but you were suddenly hunched over the kitchen sink,puking your guts out. 

You didn't hear Michael walk in,but you knew it was him when you felt a hand pull your hair back. He said nothing, holding your hair with one hand and rubbing your back with the other as you threw up.

“Ohhhhhhh..”you moaned pitifully,vision blurring. The acrid bile burned your throat. Every part of your body felt like it had been set on fire. 

When you finally stopped,you slowly craned your neck to look at Michael. His brows knitted with concern. 

“This..this has to end,[Y/N]. You're going to let me help you- I don't care if I have to hold you down to do it.”

You opened your mouth to protest,but Michael shot you a look and rolled up his sleeves. 

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” you asked,barely audible.

“Yes,” he answered with a sense of finality. “I'm sure.”

Knowing that there wasn't anything you could do to stop him,you stood up completely straight and tilted your head up the best you could without causing yourself even more pain. 

He rested his fingers against either side of your face,warm skin against your cold skin. He took a deep breath,as if bracing himself,and carefully pressed his fingers against your pounding temples. Almost immediately,you felt the pain start to ease. When he began to rub the spot,you felt yourself slumping. 

You knew Michael could be gentle. In the general eye of the public,he definitely wasn't seen that way,but you knew better. You knew he could be soft. But this wasn't soft or even gentle..it was..delicate. The way he carefully pulled a bit away from your temples made it feel like he was literally pulling the pain out of your head but without the tugging sensation that you knew would hurt. 

His brows furrowed,and you knew from the sharp intake of breath that the pain was starting to get to him. You almost told him to stop,but the feeling of a tiny bit of relief felt like a slice of heaven. 

“Almost done,” he mumbled,seeming to grow tense. Your eyelids drooped,the pain dulling into practically nothing. 

When his hands moved away from you,you snapped out of the seemingly drunken state and back to reality. Michael was in pain- you could tell- and,not for the first time that day,you started to cry. 

“I'm so sorry! I should've..you shouldn't have...just let me-”

“It's fine. Seriously,[Y/N]. You need to-” he stopped to wince,”-stop trying to handle everything yourself. You can't. And you shouldn't. And I sure as hell won't let you.”

You stood there,arms dangling uselessly at your sides. It was then that you realized that he didn't just mean the headaches. He meant everything that was going on in your life- everything that was causing you stress and strife. He..just wanted you to be okay. To help. And all this time,you had been pushing him away in an attempt to be selfless. In that moment,you felt gratitude wash over you.

Michael sighed. 

“We can get some Tylenol later,and we'll try to get you into the doctor this weekend. We're gonna get through this together,okay?”

You just nodded,saying nothing. 

The two of you walked out of the kitchen and into the bedroom,where you'd both pass out right next to each other. You'd half-wake a little while later and smile to yourself. Yes,he was a stubborn motherfucker,but you were so incredibly grateful for it in that moment that you leaned in a little bit to kiss him on the cheek. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

He smiled in his sleep.


End file.
